


If Found Return to 10 W. 74th St.

by wecarryoninmindpalaces



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail is protected in this life, And Oblivious to Hannibal's advances, Chesapeake Ripper? Who dat?, Established Friendship, Eventual Smut, FBI is still FBI, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, He's vegan, Jack is still a jerk, M/M, NYC!AU, Past Will Graham/Alana Bloom, Platonic Relationship, Well a Recovering Cannibal, Will is Fine, and happy, eventual hannigram
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-17 04:11:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1373452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wecarryoninmindpalaces/pseuds/wecarryoninmindpalaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal Lecter is one of Manhattan's finest.<br/>Will Graham is one of the FBI's finest.<br/>They're alone together.<br/>Blame Abigail leaving for Syracuse and Alana leaving a box of Will's junk outside his old apartment in Brooklyn.<br/>They're alone together by choice.<br/>Taking out the FBI's latest threat, The Manhattan Ripper, will be quite the ride.<br/>They might not be alone together for much longer.<br/>Inspired by the clumsy!Hannibal gifset</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Established

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction in a really, really long time. The last time I wrote was back in my last year of middle school, and now I'm a freshman in college. I apologize in advance for how OOC anyone is, if I fuck up any dialogue, if I fuck up anyone's ships, but anywho: on with the show!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will get along.

I.

The striped curtains were drawn shut, the queen sized bed a jumble of sheets and down comforters, and the potbelly stove turned space heater was cranked up. A sliver of morning Manhattan streetlight slipped through the break of the curtains as the iPad resting in its charging dock weaved its owner’s morning playlist into the Bluetooth speakers mounted on all four corners of the bedroom, gently coaxing one Hannibal Lecter out of sleep. His sandy hair mussed, his wool pajamas static clung to his olive skin, his maroon eyes blurry from sleep, and no contacts, he padded out of the bedroom into the adjoining master bath without tripping over the lift in the threshold today.

“One small victory at a time.” he mumbled to himself, fetching his contact case out of the medicine cabinet and slipping them in with a shaky hand. For someone that found the human anatomy fascinating, he hated touching the eyes.

The man was a klutz, he always had been, and it pained his poised mother and military father when they were both alive. And yet, Hannibal could be as graceful as they came when necessary, with ballroom dancing, fencing, and ice skating on his recreational activities as his (pending) dating profile stated. And cooking. Couldn’t forget cooking. Hannibal’s lips quirked up in a smile as he walked into his slippers and shrugged on a robe to begin his morning routine.

6:15: Prepare breakfast.

It was always a coincidence that Hannibal just so happened to rhyme with cannibal, one he would laugh off with his jagged incisors peeking over his lips. It was easy to pluck a specimen off the streets of New York without detection, if the first episode of Sherlock had taught him anything. However, it was more difficult to dispose of the evidence than it was worth. Hence why Abigail and Hannibal agreed once they moved to the city that they would go vegan. The selection varied from market to market, the taste was tolerable, and it meant he could hone in culinary skills he had never tried. And Hannibal, the man who had type A personality all but written on his forehead, always looked for improvement.

6:30: Shower and dress.

The doctor was a man of expensive taste, though a three piece suit would not withstand the bitter conditions he’d walk in for his commute to his office, finally deciding to keep somewhat causal with black slacks, a black sweater with his white button up underneath, galoshes, and a red wool scarf with matching gloves. His taupe trench hung on the coat stand by his door, along with a leather briefcase that held his iPad, the dress shoes he would change into at the office, among other important items.

6:50: Grab the morning paper.

After tugging his head through the neck of his sweater and raking his hands through his hair for good measure, Hannibal heard a thump at his front door, and then another door a couple feet away, and another and another until the paperboy made his way into the elevator to the next floor.

Hannibal smiled to himself as he pulled the door open and bent down, while the door next to him swung back and a dog, albeit not massive in size but fair for a two bedroom apartment, leaped over the threshold and grabbed hold of the plastic bag holding his master’s paper before turning to Hannibal.

“Good morning, Winston,” Hannibal nodded in acknowledgement, holding out to the mix lab a piece of rawhide, “and how are we today?” the dog rushed back inside and dropped the paper on the coffee table before bounding back out to the doctor and his treat. “That good?” Hannibal wasn't particularly fond of dogs, but if he had a soft spot for Will’s companion it would not kill him.

“Winston?!” a gruff voice called from the hallway of the apartment before one Will Graham popped his head around the side of the doorway in a white t-shirt and sweatpants, “Oh, good morning, Doctor Lecter!” he breathed a sigh of relief, “I was afraid Winston wandered off.”

“Now why would he do that, Will?” Hannibal smiled, standing at full posture, “How long have we been neighbors, a year?”

“Somewhere in there.” Will returned the smile, watching Winston skirt around his legs and back into the apartment.

A year and two months, actually, since Will moved into the rundown apartment next door to Hannibal’s pristine fortress. The man previous was a hoarder, no family, living off a trust fund for years. The man, ah, never returned home one night and after the rent deposit was denied due to inefficient funds, as the bank claimed when investigated, the apartment was scrubbed from top to bottom and put up for sale not two weeks later. Hannibal was quite pleased, though absolutely elated as a rising FBI profiler came in with the landlady, Beverly, a friend of Hannibal’s from long days past, to take a look at the apartment.

* * *

_“It’s great, Bev, but I doubt I can afford it-“_

_“It last belonged to a hoarder, we've cleaned it up as best we can but there’s still some damage- water damage, the slight stench, and the appliances are all beyond repair. Will, you can afford this place without all those issues- I checked your credit. Plus I know your salary, you’re making almost as much as I did when I started out,_ plus _your best crime lab technician is your landlord.” she grinned at him, “Winston is more than welcome, your neighbors are polite and quiet, the rent is low for the upper west side there’s literally no reason to say no.” she shifted her hips, digging her hands into the pockets of her coat. It was late November, the temperature had been dipping into the high thirties that morning, and Bev had cut the heat off in the apartment. “Sorry, no heat, cheaper to keep it off.”_

_“Oh c’mon you know-“_

_The conversation went on as Hannibal was stepping out of the adjacent elevator, returning from a matinee, when he saw the apartment door wide open, and decided inviting himself in was in his best interest, no matter how tacky, “I’m sorry, may I intrude for a moment?”_

_Bev turned her head before waving a hand, “Come in, no problem- oh, Will, this Dr. Hannibal Lecter, he lives next door. Hannibal, this is Will Graham, one of my partners at the FBI- a profiler.”_

_“Hello, pleasure to meet you.” Hannibal’s voice grew thick with an eastern European accent Will could not pin._

_As the doctor was pulled closer, he realized Will was handsome, ruggedly, bookishly handsome with five o’clock shadow slowly turning into stubble and eyes rich with blue and green pigments, his skin a shade too pale for porcelain underneath once dark denim jeans and a faded forest green button up from some discount department store, his shoes- hiking boots?_

_Will stuck his hand out and shook his, firmly, rehearsed, but not forced, “Likewise, I’m a professor at the academy. Criminal investigation.”_

_“I’m a psychiatrist.” Hannibal chuckled, “How fitting. Do you like the apartment?”_

_He coughed, eyes darting to the nearest excuse to keep talking, “Yeah it’s great, but-“_

_“You wonder if you can afford it?” the doctor smiled, his voice calm and welcoming, “Ms. Katz is leasing it out lower than others, she’s afraid no one will want it after the extensive abuse it took by its previous tenant, but you look like you’re not one to back down from a challenge, hm?”_

_Bev cocked a high penciled brow behind Will, her silvery liquid shadow shimmering in the florescent light._

_Will grinned, stepping a little closer, “Ah, no, Dr. Lecter, I’m not.”_

_Bev stepped in, “So we have a lease?” Will took one last look around before nodding, his smile dazzling._

_“Well then, I shall see you very soon.” he smiled, eyes alight, “Pardon my interruption Mr. Graham, Ms. Katz.” and on that note he saw himself out with a somewhat smug smile as the door closed behind him. He liked Will Graham._

* * *

“Are you leaving for work soon, Doctor? I thought your appointments started at ten.” Will leaned against the wall.

“They do, but being alert and comprehensive is key in my work.” Hannibal quipped, almost rocking back and forth on his heels. “Doesn’t your lecture start at nine-thirty?”

“They do, though I wish they hadn’t.” he chuckled, “Actually, the snowstorm is clearing my schedule quite nicely- it's shut down the academy.”

His courage was ignited, “If you’d like we could go down to Rockefeller Center? I don’t believe I’ve had breakfast yet.” lie.

“Neither have I, all I have is bread and milk.” Will smiled sheepishly.

“Wonderful, breakfast it is.” He gave a little bow as he stepped back into the threshold of his door.

“I’ll meet you in the center in an hour, text me if anything happens.”

“Yes, William.” Hannibal nodded graciously, getting one last look of him before clicking the door shut behind him. “I think I’ll take a walk,” he mumbled to no one in particular, coat and scarf in the crook of his arm as he slid on his gloves. “Yes, a walk will be nice.” he grabbed his briefcase. “Grab some tofurkey-” he shuddered. “No, no that is disgusting, that’s not even food.”

* * *

 It was cold. Cold enough for all style of the city’s elite to remain hung up in their walk-in closets and don dark parkas filled to the brim with down feathers, legs covered with wool socks and tall galoshes protecting them from slosh and snow flung to the sidewalk by snowplows and traffic.

Except Hannibal. He didn't mind the cold so much as he minded the heat island Manhattan would be come April, where he would stay in his West 74th Street apartment with the AC high and the curtains drawn shut until the middle of May, when he would entrust Will with looking after the apartment for a month or so while he traveled for vacation.

The walk was refreshingly cold, the wind calm and the snow fluffy. Hannibal would walk straight down to Rockefeller Center, Will would catch the subway on 72nd Street and get off at 50th if his luck was right and the subway was running on time.

* * *

 An hour later, Hannibal was eating a sandwich from a nearby food stand, ice skates laced up, sitting in the penalty box connected to the rink. How stupid he was to think Will would actually come. Perhaps he got caught up in an impromptu phone conference at the apartment, or maybe Jack Crawford, Will’s superior at the FBI, called him in for an early morning murder scene. Either way, he mused, Will would probably apologize profusely and be flustered for the remainder of the day, and that was always something to look forward to.

A few yards away from the rink, Will was sitting at a café, menu in hand, the other holding a pen and twirling his hair with it. He was slowly losing hope, perhaps Hannibal had a last minute addition or maybe he went to the wrong plaza by accident, but then again the NBC building was towering over his head. But as he tilted up, counting the floors down to the lobby, he was soon peering over his menu and seeing a mop of sandy blond hair in his line of vision. Placing the menu down he saw Hannibal in the closest state someone could be to a dejected puppy, woefully eating a sandwich that was questionably meat.

“Hey!” Will called, fighting his laughter. “Doctor Lecter!”

Hannibal’s eyes flicked up for a second before looking to the café nearby, and they snapped up again at a grinning man who looked very similar, downright uncanny even, to-

“Will!” he muffled through his sandwich while jumping up and out onto the ice until, much to his chagrin, falling backwards, his skates up on the bench of the penalty box before quickly, albeit struggling, to his feet. He wasn’t as young as he used to be.

Will laughed, standing from his seat to get a better look at the doctor, and waved, “I got us a table! Thought you’d like it better than street food!”

Hannibal flushed a tinge pink, though he’d never admit it, as he regained his balance. Just his luck, as he was gliding over to the edge of the rink, a chunk of ice caught the tip of the blade and sent him sliding forward.

He looks like a penguin, a very well dressed penguin, Will only laughed harder at the idea of the ever classy and graceful Hannibal Lecter tripping his way to him in any situation, it was something out of the romantic comedies he and his ex-girlfriend, Alana, would watch on Netflix in her studio apartment back in Brooklyn on Avenue T. He would choose the actor, and she would choose the movie from their profile, normally the most obscure or the lowest ratings. Somewhere in there the remote would accidentally hit mute, Alana’s cheek would rest on Will’s shoulder, her lips making contact with his jawline, and he would smile and hold her closer. It was nice. It was safe. But there was no love. Hence why the next time Alana invited Will to a night of Netflix, there was a bottle of wine on the coffee table. And, the following morning outside of his apartment on Avenue C, a box of clothes and beer that had somehow ended up in her home.

“Are you alright?” he asked as the doctor waddled over to their table, briefcase in hand and sandwich long forgotten, tossed into a nearby trashcan.

“Oh yes, I’m fine.” he brushed himself of flurries, unlacing his skates and replacing them with his galoshes before sitting across from his favorite profiler, “But I could use a hot meal, hand me that menu, William.” and the younger man obliged, grinning.


	2. In Bleak Never Ending Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will's minds start turning.

II.

Winter decided to stick around longer than anyone in the city would have liked, except for maybe Hannibal and Will, who together had three weeks worth of classes lost and dozens of appointments cancelled due to inclement weather. The only downside being that cancellations were scattered across the day, leaving Hannibal stuck in his office since heading out would only be an inconvenience. Except for one Thursday in February around 2 o’clock when Will tentatively stepped inside the large office on 52nd Street after wrapping up his classes for the day.

It wasn’t so much dark as it was muted, elegant and muted of color- except for red. Red was everywhere. The accent walls, the horizontal stripes on the tall curtains (which recalled memories of Will’s freshman dormitory), even a good percentage of the books he could see in the library over his head had red spines. And yet no sign of the psychiatrist in said office was given as Will stepped further into the office. He bit his lip, newspaper tucked in his heavy coat pocket.

“Will?”

“Gah!” he jumped, looking up and over the railing to see one Hannibal Lecter, sitting in the lone chair upstairs with a black book in his lap. “There you are!” he smiled, leaning back to get a wider look of the loft turned library. “I’ve never seen your office before, it’s very…”

“Welcoming? Professional?” Hannibal placed the book back on the middle shelf with a smile.

“…Red.”

Hannibal chuckled, “I happen to enjoy the color, for some it evokes anger, others passion…”

“But what about you?” Will inquired, almost cheekily if his eyes were not so sincere.

“Peace. I’ve always felt at peace in a red room.” Hannibal climbed down the ladder, “What does red tell you, Will?”

“…Blood.” Will’s smile faltered with a shake of his head, “Sorry, it comes with the job.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder. “Speaking of job…”

“The Manhattan Ripper.” Will huffed, smoothing out the New York Post on the mahogany desk, which only read “HOW” in signature font, the pictures of the first three victims lined up in a row with blank silhouettes following down the cover. “Three college age girls, all under five foot five, all majoring in high priced fields, all interns. There’s another that went missing, out in New Jersey before Thea Rose, but Jack isn’t convinced she’s connected with the Ripper.”

Hannibal peered over his shoulder, breathing in cheap cologne and whatever shower gel Will bought on sale from CVS, “Is she reporting that there is?”

“Lounds? Oh yeah, she is.” Will grunted, running a hand through thick curls. “She’s been up Jack’s ass since I ruled it, like he needs another reason to start again.”

A pause, Hannibal’s tone soft, “How is Bella?”

“…She could be better.” was the quiet reply. “The cannabis is easing as much pain as possible.”

He dipped his head, “Of course.”

Hannibal had been Phyllis “Bella” Crawford’s psychiatrist and confidant for what seemed an eternity. She was his first client in the city, her husband his second for grief counselling; though he could never reveal the truth to the man’s wife. Which was why Bella never saw a bill in her three years of knowing Doctor Lecter, and his response was always the same: the bill was faxed directly to the insurance company and the copay would be the same amount as their previous appointments’. She was soft when Jack was rough, sweet when he was bitter. She was his rock and he was an island.

“They’ve been thinking about Italy.” Will smiled a little, “She wants to go back before... she gets too sick.”

“She told me…”

“Doctor Lecter, Jack wants you to come in for the trial. As an expert for the prosecution.”

He nodded thoughtfully, “For Jack, of course. Will you also be there as an expert?”

“I would be, as an expert for the motive.”

“How far off are we from a suspect?”

“A million years away it seems. They’ve interviewed professors, dorm supervisors, friends, relatives, lovers, ex-lovers, classmates, there is no social connection between the three. They didn’t even go to the same college. The first, Thea Rose Rogers, was at Juilliard, the second, Ana Tomas, NYU, the third, Ingrid Schmidt, Columbia.”

“Perhaps the victims were not in good financial standing? Sugar daddy gone wrong?”

“Had the IRS check their bank statements, Ana may as well be a stock mogul, Ingrid has a Swiss bank account, so, not much else to say, is there? Thea Rose is not as well off as them, but she’s on full ride as a double major in opera and strings.”

"What a shame.” Hannibal frowned, noting Will’s use of the present tense as if he was holding out hope they’d find the girls roped up in a warehouse a la “Taken”, “So we have three petite, beautiful women with money and talent, all attending prestigious schools in their own right… Racial, ethnic backgrounds?”

“Thea Rose’s was hardest to track but we found her, she’s from Dover. England, not Delaware. Ana was born in Chepoix, France, stayed until she was thirteen, but was sent over to Albany to live with relatives from then on. Ingrid’s a Swiss, went to Columbia- her father’s alma mater... How does this make sense?”

“Psychopaths don’t always make sense.”

“That would make a pattern of European women… Starting with Thea Rose in Dover… Then Ana in Chepoix… Wait, Ingrid’s from Geneva… …That girl out in New Jersey- where was she from?” Will flipped through the Post, mumbling as he went, “Francesca Agnello, student at Princeton University majoring in marketing, emigrated from- Florence, Italy.” Will looked up at the doctor, his brows knitted together in frustration, “It looks like he’s killing them in some twisted alphabetical order of origin. We’re missing three girls from cities starting with A, B, and E… And god forbid twenty others in the area. It’s a stretch, but it’s all we can work with.” he grabbed his coat, heading for the door, “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Where are you going, Will?” Hannibal called after, conflicted in whether or not to leave his next client at four. It was nearly the bottom of the hour, but then again a trip with Will was never short and sweet.

“Federal Plaza!” Will shouted as he slammed the door shut and started for the nearest intersection he could call a cab from.

As conflicted as he was, when his phone sprang to life he flicked his thumb over the screen, not paying attention to the caller idea, “Dr. Lecter speaking.”

“Hi, Hannibal!”

“Abigail, what do I owe the call for? …What happened?”

Though Hannibal had his inhibitions about letting Abigail off on her own after the years and years of trauma Garrett Hobbs provided, they were both thrilled with her acceptance to Syracuse. Abigail’s therapist, Alana Bloom, and Hannibal’s therapist, Bedelia Du Maurier, suggested her college experience should not be hindered by the past, and to let her go. They agreed. While she was undecided with her major, Abigail had taken an interest in criminal investigation and psychology after a discussion with Will over Thanksgiving dessert, which had taken place outside of Father Lecter’s, as Bev called him, watchful eye.

* * *

  _Will’s apartment was pleasant and earthy, with fishing rods decoratively hooked up over the pristine white fireplace backed up against the accented brick wall, Winston’s crate by the windowsill, the dining table a rehab project from the dumpster out back when his broke during the move from Brooklyn. The apartment was in better shape than most nights, no takeout boxes piled in the trash can, no trails of clothes from the “clean” hamper to the “dirty” hamper, all with good reason. He had offered Thanksgiving dinner to Hannibal and Bev, who seemed to have no family in the city at the moment, who happily accepted. Hannibal, however, did insist on preparing the meal as his culinary skills would not go to waste- which Will protested up until the morning of._

_“Doctor I really don’t see why you have to I’m- mmmmphhh!” a spoon was being shoved into his mouth._

_“Taste this.” Was Hannibal’s reply, letting the spoon hang while he cleaned his hands with a cloth rag. “What do you think, too much?”_

_Will plucked it out as the taste settled in. “It’s good, what is it?”_

_“The gravy for our turkey and potatoes. Here, the shops reopen after the parade, I need you to get me everything on this list.” the fine script was scrawled on a recipe card._

_“Chicken stock, turnips, butter, marshmallows- for the sweet potatoes I’m guessing, sage, rosemary… Stovetop cooker? Really?” Will gave him a knowing grin, albeit turned a tinge green. The mention of stovetop cooker brought back memories of his senior year in college, in which a freshman set a packet on fire._

_Hannibal chuckled, “I have never enjoyed making stuffing, it’ll be our little secret.” he winked, and if Will’s cheeks turned a little pink it was because of the lack of heat in Hannibal’s apartment. "Abigail will be joining us, though she might be late, it's a long drive from Syracuse to Manhattan."_

_"You're telling me." he could not fight the smile tugging at his lips as he walked toward the door. "Just keep cooking, Hannibal, I'll keep cleaning."_

* * *

 She giggled, “Nothing, just wanted to make sure you were eating, sleeping, setting up your online profile-“

He grimaced, albeit his tone stayed neutral. “Abigail as much as I appreciate your eagerness to find love for me, I am afraid all my love has been given to my work.”

“Please? I don’t like the idea of you being all alone in that apartment. Honestly, get a hobby outside of the house.” she wagged a proverbial finger as she flopped on her dorm bed.

"You know I work with Agent Craw-“

“And the FBI.” she warned. “Honestly, Hannibal Lecter, you can’t keep pining over Will.”

“Whoever said I was pining over Will?” he sat atop the desk, thumbing over the cover of the Post. “How is the new semester? How are your classes? Are your roommates nice?”

“It’s going well, classes are getting more fun now that my associate’s is almost out of the way. I have a roommate from Austria, her name’s Tanja. She’s an accounting major.”

If Hannibal’s heart didn’t stutter for a minute, he’d be lying. “Is she now? Learning Deutsch, liebling?”

She laughed, “It’s not much, but I can say hello, see you later, and I don’t understand German.”

“How fun.” Hannibal smiled, “Please be careful, stay in touch, I will see you soon.”

“I will.” Abigail’s voice was sweet, he could hear her nodding.“…Hannibal?”

“Hm?”

“Has Will found a connection to the missing girls?”

“I believe so.”

“And you won’t tell me what it is, will you?”

“Jack doesn’t know yet, it’s not fair.” he kept his tone light, causing a huff of a laugh to escape Abigail, “But just a question… Where in Austria is Tanja from? Salzburg? Vienna?”

“It’s this town not too far from the German border, Ansfelden?” The cogs began to turn. The panic setting in. “…Have you seen her over the past twenty-four hours?”

“Hannibal what’s-”

“Answer the question, Abigail-“

“She said she had a coffee date, some guy she met in the quad a little while back, she left about an hour ago-“

“WILL!” Hannibal crowed, but then he remembered after his moment of hysterics Will was probably in the back of a cab on 8th Avenue, and found himself snatching his coat off the chair and dashing off at breakneck speed. “Abigail if she comes back do not let her leave, ask her as many questions as possible about her date, I need you to promise me you will.”

“I-I promise.”

“Good, I will talk to you soon.” the phone shoved in his pocket, he dashed for a cab. “Federal Plaza, as fast as you can.” as the cab pulled out onto the street, his hands went back for his phone.

“Hannibal?”

His heart jumped, “Will, it’s not in order. He just reset.”

He could hear the shudder through the phone, “H-how do you know?’

“Abigail’s roommate? Tanja, accounting major, Austrian, von Ansfelden. It fits the bill.” he rushed through, his mind swirling for reasoning. “It all fits, she left an hour ago for a date with a stranger, she didn’t tell Abigail when she would return-.”

“Are you on your way to Federal Plaza.”

“Yes.” Will slumped against the cheap leather seat. “You’re gonna have to convince Jack to let you on this one, Doctor.”

“I think I’ll prove my worth.” Hannibal replied bitterly, handing the cabbie a ten before stepping out onto the pavement. “Are you inside? I can’t get in without you.” a door was then pushed open, Will standing in it.

“You think there’s a pattern?” Will called as Hannibal brushed past him and up the lobby stairs to the main elevators. 

"Yes. He started in New Jersey, now he’s working his way up. But why is he resetting at A?”

“Maybe it’s an OCD tick, that’d explain why we haven’t found any bodies, any signs of disturbance in their rooms and cars.”

“Did you call in Ms. Katz, Price, and Zeller?”

“They said the cars were spotless, like they had just been taken off the lot. All the DNA that was found in their dorms was their own and other roommates, whom all had alibis whether it be in a lecture hall, at the campus gym, working a shift at the bookstore, they all cleared out.” Will huffed and tapped the “up” button mercilessly.

“…How much sleep have you gotten in the past week?” Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder, expecting the flinch that came after.

“Maybe twenty hours?” Will quietly replied, “Not as much as I should, I know.”

“That’s under three hours a night.” he replied flatly, his mouth set in a thin line, “We will discuss this later the elevator is here.”

And who would have guessed, Jack Crawford was standing inside the car, his stance rigid, eyes hard. “So. What the hell is happening to my case, gentlemen?”


	3. Wrapped in Black and White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal continue that lovely conversation with Jack

III.

Whatever self-confidence Will had left in his body escaped as he tried to gather the jumble of words lying on the floor of his mind. Jack was terrifying when he was calm. The team knew when he was shouting and ranting and throwing his hands in the air over the tiniest details, he was not completely over the edge. But when Jack’s voice grew soft and neutral, his posture straight, the jugular vein bulging and pulsing on the side of his neck… He was a nuclear bomb with a big, blinking, red button on top.

“Will believes we’ve found a pattern.” Hannibal spoke up, raising a hand out to Jack, who had stepped out of the elevator and heading into the lobby and out the door. “Agent Crawford, are you listening?”

He stopped and glared over the top of his coif head, pretending there was a throwing knife taking off the top of it. “Did you listen to Agent Katz’s voicemail?” he raised an eyebrow, “They found Ms. Roger’s body.”

Will’s mouth morphed into a thin line. “Where,”

“Katz isn’t sure how but… She was found locked inside a piano. In one of the rehearsal rooms-“

Hannibal sucked in a breath, “At Juilliard.”

“Yes, Dr. Lecter, exactly.” Jack’s voice even, the jugular vein had made its appearance, a warning sign for all to withhold possibly stupid comments and reactions. The day was not getting any better.

* * *

 “This case is gonna be a real challenge, really twisted- just the way you like them, Will. And I suppose you, too, Dr. Lecter.” Katz gave them a wicked grin as they ducked under the crime tape, though it was not really needed since the entire rehearsal wing was sealed off and effectively brought the entire music program to a crashing halt.

“Dissonance is needed for resolve.” Hannibal reminded no one in particular while snapping on latex gloves.

The room was modest in size, but the acoustics were fantastic as the group realized when the director of the opera program, a tall, round Irish man by the name of Matthew Higgins, gave a demonstration with his tenor pipes. “Each rehearsal room is sound proof, twenty in all, equipped with a grand piano, piano bench, additional chairs, a coat rack, and music stands, they can hold up to five people comfortably.” Mr. Higgins walked them into the hallway.

“So these rooms are normally used for soloists and their accompanists?” Hannibal offered.

“Normally. We didn’t divide the rooms, however we are in what the students have called vocalist territory. Instrumentalists are down the connecting hall. Makes it easier on all the social circles.” he replied, turning his head to the rehearsal room where Thea Rose’s body lay before turning back, his voice small, “…Thea Rose, though I just called her Thea, she was a joy. She bridged the gap between the two programs, she had no enemies we were aware of. She was interning at the Met, and was offered the role of our star soprano’s standby, actually, for the upcoming season.

Will licked his lips, nodding, “We are sorry for your loss.”

Higgins nodded, “I will leave you to the investigation, pleasure meeting you,” and he turned on his heel and made a dash for the yellow tape.

Jack blinked, clearing his throat, “Price, any idea how old the body is?”

Price popped up his head up from the body of the piano, “Looks to be about a week old, it’d line up with the date of her disappearance. One thing: her makeup is impeccable, she looks alive.”

Zeller nodded from the corner, “Whoever did her makeup obviously knows what they’re doing, but we can’t find any prints on her-“

“ _Obviously_ they used a brush to reduce streaking, every makeup artist knows you don’t use your fingers the bacteria and oils can alter the pigment of the liquid foundation and oxidize-"

Will cocked an eyebrow and peer over the side as Price and Zeller bickered, bracing himself for the worst. But Price was right. Thea Rose Rogers looked as if she had found a quiet place to sleep inside the body of the piano, hers curled up inside like a fetus with gold hair fanned out, smoky eyes closed, cheeks flushed a dusty pink rouge, and her peachy skin seemingly soft and warm to the touch. No signs of mutilation, her red concert dress was still intact, though she was barefoot, no cuts, no bruising from what could be seen at the surface. He grimaced, looking away, "Who found her?"

"The tuner." Bev answered.

"And, what, no one checked to look when they heard something wrong with the piano?" Will huffed out a laugh, growing upset.

"Back in the nineties the music upperclassmen, didn't matter what major, had this hazing tradition where they'd drag the freshman downstairs while they were asleep and lock them inside baritone saxophone cases, tuba cases, and, yes, sit on top of the body of grand pianos. One kid had a panic attack and subsequently sued the school. They won the case, and the school designed pianos with locks on the lip of the lid. Also deters rivals from sabotaging each other's instruments."

"And the only man with a key would be the tuner?"

"Yeah, but he says he misplaced his key while moving his business closer to the city a couple weeks before Thea's disappearance. He had to ask the dean for the spare to make a copy." 

“Okay.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “What?”

* * *

 Will closed his eyes, and as his friends and coworkers were melting away, all he could hear was the sweet playing of a piano and soft breathing.

“You want to take it slower?” the pianist asks her.

"I don't know, it's a difficult song I don't want to make it even worse." Thea sighs, her hands wrung together.

 “I…” Will began, trying to take a step forward, to grab hold of Thea, to kill her in a way that made sense, and when he reaches out something that has never happened before occurs. His position switches. He is now the accompanist. Thea’s big blue eyes are wide with shock, and yet no scream comes like he thought would. And then he’s back by the door, outside the door, back to the accompanist, it’s a roulette wheel. There were so many ways it could go. There might not have even been an accompanist at all. He feels sick, clutching his head.

* * *

 “Will?”

“Will?!”

“WILL!”

* * *

 Will’s eyes fly open, his chest heaving, it was like coming up for air after pushing his limits underwater, “This isn’t my design. There’s no design.” he glanced down at Thea’s body, then saw the photographer snapping away at every possible angle. "At least not yet."

The pregnant silence started taking its toll before he continued, “Get her in the lab, clean off all the makeup, let’s see how clean they really left her and I’ll see what I can do. I… I can’t do this right now.” and darted for the door without waiting for a response.

Hannibal turned to Jack before leaning over the body, and taking a long sniff of Thea. He caught the stale scent of hairspray, the faintest waft of her perfume- something sweet, on the expensive side, but not too expensive, and… wait no. “Jack…”

“What is it?” he snapped.

“…I wouldn’t ask this if I wasn’t sure… But would you please lift up her dress?” Hannibal looked down, almost shamefully.

Jack shifted uncomfortably, before Bev snapped on fresh gloves. “I will.” she lifted up the hem of the dress carefully, and it wasn’t long before she found what she feared. “Oh my god.” she whispered. “This is why she looks so fresh.” from her navel to the top of her sternum was a line of stitching, almost so accurate it looked like the killer used a sewing machine on her. “She’s been embalmed.”


	4. Sweet and Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will are just two normal guys having a beer after a long day at work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really happy people seem to enjoy my work! It's such a confidence booster, really, thank you. Let the show go on!  
> Quick note: This chapter will probably be the last with flashbacks, I'm not particularly fond of them but I feel they were needed in an established relationship like Will's and Hannibal's.

IV.

Will settled into the back of the cab, cradling his head in his hands. “Why is this happening?” pounding footsteps grew closer to the door before it swung open, “This cab is taken go find-!” Will stopped short, catching his tongue, “Hannibal.”

“May I?” but his tone left no room for refusal, so Will nodded and slid down a seat for him to climb in. “Ten West Seventy-Fourth Street, please.”

The cab jerked forward and all Will could do was groan and hold on. “I’m slipping.”

“It’s not your fault there is minimal evidence. There is only so much you can piece together.” Hannibal soothed, “The options are too vast,”

He dragged his hands through his hair. “Hannibal, this has _never happened_. I don’t know if this is a blessing or a curse.”

“…If it’s any consolation, she isn’t as clean as she looks. She’s been embalmed.”

“…What?”

“The killer knew what he was doing, no blood, the stitching was precise, she looked ready for a viewing.”

“So he’s harvested her organs.”

“Essentially,”

“…All of them?”

“I’m not sure, Agent Katz is bringing the body back to the lab and reopening the stitching.”

Will nodded and let the topic hang for the remainder of the ride until he felt the cab slide into the curb, paid, and slid out, followed by the doctor. “Why on earth did I do this to myself?” he groaned, feeling Hannibal take him by the shoulder.

“Would you like a drink? My cabinet is stocked.” he grinned.

The younger man raised an eyebrow, “A drink? Straight up?”

“You’ve deserved it more than anyone after the day you’ve gone through.” he grabbed his phone, making a face, “And it’s nearly time for dinner.”

“I think I’ll order in some Chinese.” Will waved him off with a sad smile.

Hannibal frowned, “Oh no, you are not. You are having dinner with me, drink of choice in hand.”

“…You bring the booze I bring the noodles?” the brunet gave a hopeful smile.

The blond sighed, “…I suppose.”

The grin that spread over Will’s mouth would put the Joker to shame, “What would you like?”

* * *

An hour later Will and Hannibal were drinking Blue Moon out the bottle, chopsticks in hand, watching Netflix on Hannibal’s flat screen mounted over the fireplace where Will’s fishing poles would be at home. Of all the things the doctor was on pointe with, Netflix was not one of them, and that little fact made Will swell with pride. “What do you wanna watch? We can search for virtually anything you want.” Will grinned, stabbing the won ton in his soup with one stick.

“…Anything?” Hannibal eyed him while dunking his eggroll in sweet and sour sauce, a little dripping off the side and down his hand.

“Anything at all.”

He sucked the more sweet than sour sauce off his thumb, and that caught Will’s attention as he licked his lips. “I did enjoy The Hunt.”

“For Red October? Yeah they have that-“

“No, The Hunt, it’s a Danish film, very well plotted, it’s rumored to be nominated at the Oscar’s this coming season.” Hannibal’s lips quirked up in a smile.

Will laughed, “You would watch foreign films, was it any good?”

“It was very good, Will, I am rather fond of that Mads Mikkelsen fellow.”

“…Wasn’t he in Quantum Solace?”

A sigh and another swig of the bottle, “Yes, Will, but it’s hardly his best work.”

“If you had a rebel twin brother, it’d be him.”

“I can see the resemblance, though his role in Charlie Countryman would be a better- Nigel was one sick man.” he chuckled, mostly to himself. If Will knew how close to the truth it was.

Bev called Hannibal a silver fox, with as much charm as a con man and as much fascination as, well, an enigma. It wasn’t the first time Hannibal tried courting Will in his own way, no, it was subtle, sweet, friendly even. But Will knew. He knew that moment he saw Hannibal belly slide his way over on the ice rink. He also knew the moment he liked Hannibal back.

* * *

  _Christmas Eve of 2013, Will sat in the corner of Hannibal’s apartment with his glass of wine, people watching. All of the socialites huddled in the corner by the fire place sipping champagne, the FBI team clinking necks of their beer bottles over in the kitchen while Hannibal meandered between the two._

_“Will? Are you alright?” Hannibal grabbed a chair from the bar._

_“Hm? Oh, I’m fine.” he waved a hand, “But if you wouldn’t mind us stepping out for a minute?”_

_“Is everything alright?” the older man’s voice dropped, his eyes flicking over Will for any problems._

_“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, just wanted to give you something- it’s Christmas Eve after all.” he gave the doctor a dopey smile, thanks to the wine, a small box tucked safely inside his pocket._

_Maroon eyes softened and a languid smile formed, “I see, great minds think alike.”_

_Will stepped out first, claiming to Zeller he needed to check up on Winston, then Hannibal not two minutes later, lying to Bedelia that he was stepping out for more wine from the liquor store down the street. The idea of sneaking out brought Will back to the memories of Friday nights in high school when his friends would raid their basement liquor cabinets, and snatch up every Playboy from under their bed. But this was different. This wasn’t hormones and boredom. This was Will hoping Hannibal would fall for the Louisianan boy next door, that they could tear down the wall that divided their apartments and lives (with Bev’s blessing, of course)._

_Will fiddled with the bow absentmindedly. Gift wrap was offered when he bought the damn gift from Saks, as they should since they cost him a day’s work- literally. But they did match his style and that must count for something._

_Hannibal finished tying the bow to Will’s gift in the elevator up from the garage. The present was not much by the elite’s, if anything it’d be a goodie bag, but he knew it’d be more than enough for Will and his modesty._

_“There you are.” Will smiled, holding the box behind his back._

_“Here I am.” Hannibal grinned, almost primal, “On three?”_

_“How juvenile, here just open it.” he stuck it out, red filling his cheeks._

_The doctor slipped off the ribbon, opening the box, his smile widening, “Will, you endured Saks for me?” all he could do was laugh as Hannibal marveled his new cufflinks, “They’re wonderful, William, thank you. In fact, I think I’ll wear them now.” and swiftly unhooked the plain silver square cufflinks, letting them drop to the floor as he attached his new Burberry square check ones, “They match my tie.” he chuckled and Will couldn't help but grin at the coincidence. “This is your gift, and no you cannot have me return it you will say thank you and use it.” and placed the box in Will’s arms._

_Unlacing the bow and lifting the top off the box, Will’s eyes widened, his mouth agape, “Why-?”_

_“Every good man needs a good suit.” Hannibal declared, “The suit has been paid for, all you need is a fitting.”_

_Will glanced up at him, “You think I’m a good man?”_

_“Of course, you are a good man, with a gift no one else can comprehend, it does not hinder you, it strengthens you.” his eyes dark with sincerity, his pupils dilating. “Your first court appearance is sooner versus later, we want to make a good impression don’t we?” the smile was morphing into a smirk. “Actually,” he crouched down, grabbing the forgotten cufflinks. “I think these would look nicely with your suit. It’s a slate grey, by the way, I hope you have no qualms with me choosing the color.”_

_Will laughed, “You know more than I do in the subject of suits I trust you. You sure you won’t miss those?” it wasn't the first time he had seen those cufflinks, he wore them to crime scenes, he would plop them in a trinket dish while cooking, he even wore them to Thanksgiving dinner last month._

_“They were a gift, from a student of mine,” he smiled fondly, “a long while back, ten fifteen years ago. She bought them with part of her first paycheck, out in Baltimore where we both lived and practiced.” he weighed them in his hands. “But I think it’s time I give them to someone a little more deserving. They’re timeless, they will suit you very well.” and placed them inside the box lest Will lose them._

_“If you don’t mind my asking, who was she?” Will closed the box._

_“Alana.” Hannibal smiled sadly, “Alana Bloom.”_

_Will sucked in a breath. Alana. His ex-girlfriend Alana. The one who bought him the crate Winston slept in now, the one that bought cheap bottles of red wine for her birthday and splurged on white for his, the one that took Will out for dinner on their first anniversary, the one that spoke in Will’s defense at countless bars as he left taking calls from Jack. She had loved Hannibal. And from the look on his face he had loved her, too._

_“What a pretty name.” Will held in a sob, pretending to yawn. “I think the wine is going to my head. I should sleep. Are we still going to Bev’s for breakfast in the morning?”_

_“Yes, I believe we are. Get some sleep,” the older man put a comforting hand on his shoulder, though all he wanted was to shrug it off. “Goodnight, Will.”_

_“Goodnight, Hannibal.” his smile faltered, crossing paths to get back to the door of his home, where Winston sat in his crate admiring Will’s modest Christmas tree covered in twinkling lights and random baubles from childhood and family, including one glass ornament that Alana had made for him, big and iridescent holding white glitter and a shot of the two of them skating in Rockefeller Plaza._

_The tree was pushed out the fire escape the next morning, with the remains of a big, iridescent ornament smashed against the brick wall of 12 W. 74th Street._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did there? I'm hoping to update "If Found" every day or every other day. There's still much to discover.


	5. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal have human needs. But not those kinda needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick bio of the victims, keep them all straight, from now all stats will be updated as the story proceeds. Because even I, the author, fuck up.
> 
> Victim 1: Francesca Agnello  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Florence, Italy  
> Last Known Location: Princeton, New Jersey  
> Attended: Princeton University, Princeton, New Jersey. Major: Marketing  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 2: Ana Tomas  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Chepoix, France  
> Last Known Location: Albany, New York  
> Attended: New York University, New York, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 3: Thea Rose Rogers  
> Age: 21  
> Place of Birth: Dover, England  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Juilliard School, Manhattan, New York. Double Major: Opera and Strings  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> Victim 4: Ingrid Schmidt  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Geneva, Switzerland  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Columbia University, Manhattan, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> (Possible) Victim 5: Tanja  
> Age: 19  
> Place of Birth: Ansfelden, Austria  
> Last Known Location: Syracuse, New York  
> Attended: Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York. Major: Accounting  
> Status: Presumed Alive
> 
> ...Okay GO!

V.

Will’s eyes yanked themselves open at some ungodly hour, by common sense it would be Friday morning, and hoisted himself upright. He fell asleep on Hannibal’s, probably imported, leather couch sometime before the climax of Skyfall, since both had seen Casino Royale, but he did not remember the decorative throw settled over the small of his back to his feet.

“Shit.” he groaned, shoving his head into the armrest. The beer bottles were in the recycling can, the takeout boxes placed in Hannibal's spacious refrigerator, the dishwasher whirring away.  But the true question was where was Hannibal? He padded into what would be the master bedroom, Hannibal’s apartment mirrored the floor plan of Will’s, and creaked the door open to find Hannibal in the midst of his queen bed, thick comforter also up to the small of his back, curling up on his side, like the big spoon he would be.

 _I wonder how many times Alana lay in that bed,_ Will’s subconscious hissed, the pang of guilt filling his gut for the first time in months, _in Baltimore, in Manhattan. How many times did he enter her room while you saw yourself out? How-_

Hannibal groaned, rolling away from Will, his surprisingly toned back coiled tight, until he sprawled out too far and fell off the bed, his shoulder hitting the corner of the nightstand.

“Hannibal!” Will slid across the bed, reaching to grab him by the shoulder, “Hannibal, c’mon, get up.”

He lifted his head slowly, no cuts, no bleeding, no bruising from what could be seen, a soft groan could be heard as the psychiatrist rubbed his temples, “Will? Did I wake you?”

“No, no, I actually woke up a little while ago. You rolled too far off the bed, I heard you hit the floor.” _No, no I wasn’t ogling my ex’s ex’s toned body, I was just concerned he may have hurt himself on the way down._ his subconscious nagged. _Sick._ “A-are you alright?”

“This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve woken up on the floor.” he chuckled sleepily, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “What time is it?”

Will squinted at the large wooden clock hanging over the bureau, the hands gleaming against the flickering streetlight in the alleyway, “Two eighteen.”

Hannibal stood, in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs that read Calvin Klein, what else, Will mused, on the band snug around his hips. He was toned, no doubt, surely in far better shape than most men his age, nearly fifty. “Did you sleep well?” he walked over to the bureau, “I hope you didn’t mind.” he slipped into silky black pajamas, “But I didn’t want to risk you not being able to fall back asleep. You fell asleep around nine, you’ve had five hours already.”

Will licked his lips, “Hannibal?’

“Hm?”

“...Thank you. I do feel better.” he smiled, not even sure if Hannibal could see it in the dark, rounding the front of the bed. “But I think I’ll see myself out.”

“Will.”

An arm grabbed him in the dark, pulling him back to see the older man’s eyes nearly glowing, and Will understood what Hannibal said that morning about being at peace when seeing red. He wanted to reach for him, clutch onto him, and sink into the bed dividing them.

“Goodnight, Doctor Lecter.” Will pulled back, forcing himself to look away, to clear his mind of the last ten minutes, and go to his own bed and his own life.

* * *

 The next morning Will contemplated feigning sickness if it meant he could stay away from Hannibal Lecter. Winston didn’t like that idea, demanding a walk at six o’clock on the dot. And Will obliged, though in the end begrudgingly, when he saw the paperboy tossing the morning paper at ten to seven and Winston lunging forward to snatch up his master’s copy, just as the master’s… friend stepped out for his own.

“Good morning, William.” Hannibal licked his lips tentatively, then looked down, “Good morning, Winston.” Winston sat at attention, waiting, “No, I have no treat for you today,” and on the word “no” the dog skulked back to the door.

“Good morning, Doctor Lecter.” Will’s voice was even, albeit on the softer side, reaching for the door to let Winston back in when the elevator dinged, announcing Beverley’s arrival, something both men were surprised to see- especially so early in the morning.

“Morning, boys,” she stepped out, her boots clicking against the tile. “An anonymous tip came in for Columbia’s campus PD, they say they found a body in Dodge Miller Theatre.”

Will grimaced, “Is it Ingrid?”

“It hasn’t been identified.”

“What do you mean it hasn’t been identified?” Hannibal stepped in.

“We’re heading out now, if you’re both ready you can hitch a ride with me, save the gas.” she crossed her arms, signature red leather jacket in hand.

“We would be grateful,” Hannibal turned to Will, who also had his arms crossed, “or at least I would be.”

“Thanks, Bev, let me grab my phone and put Winston in the house.” Will took his dog by the leash, closing the door behind him.

Bev turned to Hannibal, her voice low, “Is there something I should know about, Hannibal?”

“Will fell asleep on my couch last night, he woke up, I fell off the bed, he came in and checked on me, he left when I said I was all right.” he replied, his red sweater bunching as he crossed his arms.

She sucked in a breath, her eyes darted to the door, “If Jack sees this he will throw both of you off the case indefinitely, citing a spat between his star profiler and a consulting psychiatrist that should take place behind closed doors. And then no one will be able to find the victims. Do you understand?” she said quickly in hushed tones.

His eyes shifted, then back into Beverly’s nearly black orbs. “I do.”

“Good, don’t let it show.” she smiled, “So how _did_ Will end up at your apartment?”

“He doesn’t have too far to go, does he?” he flashed her a winning smile and in turn earned a laugh, “I supplied the booze, he supplied the noodles- ah, and Netflix, I believe it’s called.”

“It’s a godsend when you get to our age. Too old to be out bar hopping, too young for sleeping early.” the door popped open, revealing Will in slacks and a black sweater. “Let’s get going.”

* * *

 The ride to the campus was in near silence if the three took out the radio softly playing in the background in hopes of easing the tension. Bev driving her Ford SUV, Hannibal up front, and Will sitting the middle of the back row, like a question out of some public school math book.  _An Asian crime investigator, a gay profiler from the South, and a Lithuanian silver fox are sitting in a car travelling at thirty-two miles an hour, with sexual tension at sixty-seven point seven percent. How long will it take for the gay profiler to attack the Lithuanian silver fox without the Asian crime investigator killing them both? Explain._

“Was she good?” Will finally broke the silence.

Hannibal peered around, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Was Alana good?” Will shrugged his shoulders.

Hannibal’s face constricted, “I understand the question, but I don’t understand the context.”

“The woman who gave you the cufflinks that are now sitting in my drawer, the woman that followed you from Baltimore to Brooklyn, the woman I tried _so desperately to love_. Was she any good.” Will grit out.

* * *

  _“Will? Do you have any idea what time it is?”_

_“Yeah, yeah I do.” Will sighed, dragging his hand over the scruff of his chin, “I just had to ask you a question.”_

_“_ _At-” a rustle of sheets followed, “five to three in the morning?”_

 _“_ _…Yeah.”_

 _“_ _…You have my attention.”_

_“I know you lived in Baltimore for a while… Did you ever date a man named, uh, Hannibal Lecter?”_

_“…He was my professor first, we dated after I graduated. He's the reason I wound up in New York.”_

_“_ _How long?”_

_"…Three years. Why on earth are you asking me this?"_

_Will bit his lip, “You bought him a pair of cufflinks with your first paycheck.”_

_There was a pause, her voice incredulous, “How did you-?”_

_“Because they’re sitting in my drawer. Because Hannibal is my neighbor in Manhattan.”_

_Alana sighed, “I’m sorry, Will. We dissolved more than broke up. He began running in a different circle, I didn’t belong. I pulled myself out of the picture.”_

_He chuckled, “Did you drop a box of his stuff in front of his apartment, too?”_

_That got him a small giggle, “No, no I didn’t. This was back when the flip phone was the biggest thing, I was young, and naïve. Not enough confidence to make such a stand. He was fifteen years my senior, and my professor at heart. I could never- Will?”_

_“I’m sorry, I just can’t believe it. What are the odds that you would be sleeping with the man I seem to now have fallen in love with.”_

_“_ _Oh, Will,” Alana’s voice perked up, “don’t put yourself through this.”_

 _“But I may end up like you. I’ve been interacting with him for over a year, I bought him cufflinks for Christmas, his elitist friends at the party kept giving us and the rest of the team strange looks, I ended up sleeping on his couch not a half hour earlier, I saw the man in his Calvin Klein_ underwear _. I’m_ so close _.”_

_She was seething, he could tell._

_"Get some sleep.” and she hung up._

* * *

“You dated Alana?” Hannibal’s brows shot up.

“Ah, the plot thickens.” Bev mumbled, flicking her blinker to wedge her way into the turning lane onto W. 116th Street.

“Yes, for a year, before I met you.” Will bit out, eyes shifting frantically, “She dumped my crap in front of my door, Jack gave me a call a week later, I couldn’t stand the commute into the city, so I moved here.”

The car jerked to a halt outside the gates of Columbia University, Bev flipping her badge open to the guard and getting directions toward the theater, before driving on, “Look. I get it, you two have a lot to discuss, but now is not the time nor place for it. Duke it out on the train back home, fist fight in a taxi to a movie, cut the sexual tension on a Citi Bike to the bar _I don’t care. Do your jobs_.” she glared at the both of them, “Do you understand?” the two nodded, somewhat terrified. “Good, get out of my car.” she hopped out, walking to the taped off theater.

Will licked his lips, sliding out of the car, Hannibal right behind him. “She’s terrifying when she’s angry.” and Hannibal nodded in earnest.

“What’re we looking at?” Bev turned to Jack, walking down the center aisle of the theater.

“Stagehand reported a suspicious sound on the catwalk last night, but thought nothing of it. Apparently the sound majors haze newbies with what they call “screamers”. Turns out it was one of our missing victim’s. Ingrid Schmidt has been found, malnourished and in shock, but found.”

Will’s eyes sunk closed in relief, “Thank god.” he whispered, huffing out a breath.

“Does she recall anything of her captor?” Hannibal leaned forward, looking around the theater.

“She’s on her way to the hospital for an evaluation, we can do questioning later, we need you to look at where we found her. And to do that you have to go up.” Jack pointed backstage.

“It’s too early for this.” Will mumbled, jogging up the stairs to the stage, and around the back to a ladder about five feet off the ground, “Way too early.” hoisting himself up, he climbed up to the catwalk, which actually looked like more of a walk to death row. But he could see the side box where Ingrid was zip-tied- and not much else. “Jack!”

“What do you see?”

“Zip-ties, and that’s it!”

Jack frowned from below, sighing, “We’re really gonna need her accounts of what happened.”

“No shit.” Will mumbled, walking back to climb back down, “Jack, let her recover, don’t pressure her.” he glanced up at Hannibal, whose lines looked finer, and his age more believable in the bright lights of the stage. “Let’s _all_ recover, a little, before we go on.”

Jack grunted, “I understand, this hasn’t been easy, but I do think-”

_Shoot to thrill, play to kill_

_Too many women, and too many pills-_

“Hello?” Hannibal apologized silently.

“Hannibal, it’s me.” Abigail whimpered.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Tanja, she’s dead. They found her in her car last night.” the sobs wracked her. “The local CSI team is already taking care of it, I don’t know how bad the scene is, and I’m scared, they’ve been interrogating me all morning, they think I’m-“

“I will be there as soon as possible,” Hannibal’s voice hard, fatherly, “everything will be fine.” and only when Abigail hung up did he grimace, “We need to travel to Syracuse before an inexperienced team draws their own conclusions.”

“Why’s that?” Jack crossed his arms, speculations swirling.

“…Another girl, one that matches the profile of our victims perfectly, Abigail was rooming with at Syracuse has been found dead in her car. She was never reported missing because she left less than twenty-four hours ago.”

“…No rest for the wicked, Will.”

_“God damn it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I love flashbacks. Don't know why, just do.  
> Hopefully that bio makes things easier for us all- I know I would never be able to comprehend it.  
> Keep on enjoying, giving comments, kudos, and all that fun stuff lovely readers!


	6. Placeholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You may as well be her father"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victim 1: Francesca Agnello  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Florence, Italy  
> Last Known Location: Princeton, New Jersey  
> Attended: Princeton University, Princeton, New Jersey. Major: Marketing  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 2: Ana Tomas  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Chepoix, France  
> Last Known Location: Albany, New York  
> Attended: New York University, New York, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 3: Thea Rose Rogers  
> Age: 21  
> Place of Birth: Dover, England  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Juilliard School, Manhattan, New York. Double Major: Opera and Strings  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> Victim 4: Ingrid Schmidt  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Geneva, Switzerland  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Columbia University, Manhattan, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Living
> 
> (Possible) Victim 5: Tanja  
> Age: 19  
> Place of Birth: Ansfelden, Austria  
> Last Known Location: Syracuse, New York  
> Attended: Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York. Major: Accounting  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> ...Okay GO!

VI

The trio made their way back to the complex in near silence, not even the radio played, until Bev cleared her throat, "Pack at least a day's worth of clothes, we might be gone longer than we think. That is if the head of CSI didn't fuck up, then it might be longer." she ground out, "Carry on only, the hotel will have shampoos so don't bother, keep track of how much you end up spending out of pocket for this and the guys down in accounting will reimburse you." 

"You've done this before, I assume." Hannibal fiddled with his iPhone. 

"Only a couple times." she admits, "We're on our own for booking flights, but at this point we may as well try booking together. Will? Are you getting all this?"

Will's steely blue eyes flicked up, and he put on a smile, "Yeah, Beverly, I am."

"Good- you may want to find someone to look after Winston, too." a nod. "Even better."

* * *

Two hours, and a travel size bottle of bourbon, later, Will was finally at ease. It was barely noon, and incredibly uncouth, but so was having to view dead bodies for a living, he thought as Beverly drove the rental car out of the lot. "Why did Abigail never take a flight from Syracuse Hancock to JFK?" he finally broke the silence.

"She isn't very fond of flying." was Hannibal's curt reply.

"Are you?" Will bit at his lip.

"Fond of flying? Yes, actually, I am. But by that half full bottle of bourbon it would only be an assumption you are not."

That shut Will up, Hannibal triumphant in victory, while Bev rolled her eye, "I made sure he only had enough to take the edge off, versus being completely incapacitated."

"I can tell."

"...It'll be nice to see Abigail again." her foot slammed on the brake as a guy on a motorcycle whisked past and onto the interstate exit. "There's a reason why hospitals call them "donorcycles". _That_ would be why."

"If only under better circumstances." he sighed, tugging at his hands. 

**We are ten minutes away. Are they detaining you? -H**

**I complied. We're in the dining hall. -A**

**I'll see you soon. -H**

No reply needed, Hannibal mused, his surrogate daughter was upset. She went to school for the need to put the past behind her, and in one fell swoop she was sucked back in with an indefinite escape in place. He failed her. 

"...You didn't fail her." Will mumbled to no one in particular, though the direction of the message was clear.

"...But I have."

"The man known as Garrett Jacob Hobbs failed her. You, Hannibal Lecter, have saved her. You may as well be her father." and Will's words plucked a string on the man's heart. "If you had failed her, she would be dead." in all of two seconds the car felt too small, too intimate for the doctor's liking. Because it was too true to put into words.

Abigail Hobbs would have bled out on the yellow stained kitchen floor if Hannibal hadn't been early for a drink with Garrett Jacob Hobbs- the madman that held Hannibal's best kept secret in his blood stained hands. Mrs. Hobbs had not been as lucky, her body mutilated by rage rather than hunger. It was later learned when Abigail confided in Alana, _sweet, unaware Alana_ , that Hobbs had offered Hannibal in his initial invitation a delicacy after his drink, to which the doctor agreed. He claimed to never feel guilty eating anything, but eating her heart, as her father subtly offered, may have racked him undeniably. Hence why after allowing the life escaping her to clot and cling, and the authorities within two miles of their location, Hobbs was disposed of. It was quick, albeit it was not painless, and it was certainly not in the pursuit of a nice cut of lung. Hannibal was not a cruel man, but if Hobbs was strung upside down, his arms juxtaposed in the parody of an angel, just low enough for the local wildlife to take their share not too deep into the property, he would not cut him loose. 

After time appeared to stand still, a small, "Thank you, Will." could be heard from a Hannibal neither Will nor Bev had witnessed.

* * *

 The car was not stopped at the gates, Jack demanded Bev tell him the car and license plate before arriving, citing they were to be as discrete as possible until they made it to Graham dining hall, which was a shared makeshift headquarters for both parties. Where Abigail sat for a good part of her morning, clutching a shock blanket, wishing she could go back to her film lecture on color in black and white film.

"Abigail?" Hannibal slowly approached, as if he got too close she would dart off.

Her china eyes pooled with tears, "H-" and before either could register their own actions, she had thrown her arms around his middle and begun sobbing, bringing the teams a respite, a reality check. 

Jack sidestepped closer to Will than he would have liked, "It's unbelievable that she was caught up in this, after all she's gone through."

Will nodded absentmindedly, "Shame." as the photographer from CSI handed him shot after shot of who was now identified as Antonia "Tanja" Ehrlichmann, strung up by her shoulders and leaning into the steering column of her car, as if she suffered a head-on collision. Her makeup gave her life, just as Thea Rose's had, a muscle relaxant allowing the killer to scrunch up her face as if screaming "NO" seconds from impact, with her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth indignant.

"Where are Price and Zeller?" Will finally snapped.

"Back in the city, by the time we were called in the body was in the lab, besides Thea Rogers' autopsy hasn't been performed yet and we need to know what was in her system. They aren't needed here." Jack frowned.

"...Tanja, it appears, was given a drug overdose." a coroner tentatively stated, his tall frame crumbling with every flick of Will's eyes. "We found copious amounts of compounds used in sleeping pills and aspirin in her system. If it weren't for the situation, we would rule it suicide."

"But it's not." his voice piercing. "So what is it?"

"...One sick son of a bitch." the coroner mumbled. 

"One our consultants, Doctor Lecter-"

"The man talking to Miss Hobbs?"

"Yes, um, he discovered the previous victim, Thea Rogers, appeared embalmed. Agents Price and Zeller are investigating as we speak, but I wanted to know, did Ms. Ehrlichmann have stitching down her middle?"

"And if she did?" the man crossed his arms.

"Then we want a transfer of her body to Price and Zeller's lab in Manhattan." 

"You don't have the last word in this, Mr. Graham, Mr. Jones does." the coroner shot him a look. 

"And where is Mr. Jones?"

"With Agent Crawford." 

"I'm going to assume the body is embalmed. And that you should prepare it for transfer." 

Hannibal sat with Abigail at a nearby table, a stale cup of coffee shaking in her hands despite his insistence that she drink something. "You'll be dizzy from low blood sugar soon if you don't." he sighed, "I'm so sorry, Abigail. I broke my promise."

"Who were you to know that my roommate would die." she bitterly replied, readjusting her wool scarf. "They asked me how I knew her, if I knew the guy who she went out with, if there was any animosity between the two of us. It was like reliving... Will!" she stood, trying to remain composed. 

"Abigail," he reached out to her and she stepped in, letting the warmth of his adrenaline soak into her. "I'm so sorry." 

"I know." she mumbled, and only held on tighter. "...I'm glad it's you and Vati." 

"Vati?" 

"Tanja taught me "Vati" is the German equivalent of "Dad", I can't keep calling Hannibal by his first name. It's awkward." 

Hannibal resisted choking on his water at that. After three years of a tentativeness, it was a joy, a thrill even, though he may be smelling Will's adrenaline, seeing Abigail view him as the father he thought he'd never be- though outdoing Hobbs was easy enough. "If I'm Vati, then who is Will?" he joked.

A glint in her eyes shone, though joking, as a smile poked through her lips, "Papa?" 

The older men sputtered at that, "Abigail!"  the two voices blended into one, concise, strong. 

"I'm joking, of course." she patted the profiler's arm. "You'll always be Will." 

"I'm the one you come to when Hannibal's, well, Hannibal." he grinned. 

"That is uncalled for, William." Hannibal frowned. 

"Okay how about when you want pizza instead of eggplant al fresco?" 

"Gentlemen?" Jack stepped in, "I hate to break the moment, but I think we've wrapped up all we can with this one. Abigail?"

"Agent Crawford." she nodded.

"You are excused from class indefinitely. Get some sleep, set up a meeting with a counselor, I know you only talk with Alana, but try. And, also-" a cough, "if you need to don't hesitate calling Hannibal, Will, or myself." a nod, "You've been cleared to leave, you know how this works." 

Abigail gave Hannibal one last hug, with a kiss pressed into the crown of her hair, and a side hug to Will, with a quick squeeze of her arm, before taking long strides to the end of the dining hall. 

"We're bringing Ms. Ehrlichmann's body back with us." Jack murmured.

Will pulled out his BlackBerry, the tracking ball hovering over one person in particular, "Hey, Price, it's Will- have you started on Ms. Rogers' body yet? Keep her the way we found her, I think you'll want to take these apart together. Actually- have Zeller take Ms. Rogers, you're taking Ms. Ehrlichmann's. I wanna see how similar these two victims are. She's fresh, not even a day old. Yes, yes... yes." Will glanced up, "Back we go?"

"Get out of here."


	7. Chump Suites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There is a song  
> You're trembling to its tune  
> At the request of the moon" - Kongos, I’m Only Joking

VII.

"It's officially March why the hell are we still getting snow?!" Will all but snarled at the check in desk, dropping his ticket and duffle with a thunk. Though the National Weather Service warned the country days ago there would be a Nor'easter hitting the Northeast hard, it had slipped Will's mind- along with all of the travelers behind him at the Delta check-in station. The first flight available had been due at ten, granting the trio a disgustingly tasty dinner at a local diner, much to Hannibal's chagrin, and ensuring Will enough time for a quick walk with Winston and a good night's sleep if all had gone according to plan, which of course never happened. 

"Wouldn't we all like to know, honey." the lady mumbled before clearing her throat. "Roads are blocked, the planes are iced, the snowfall is too high for travel. We're required by company policy to offer you a hotel room, but you'd be staying with someone else if you do. Conserve space for all passengers."

"...Ah, I'll be staying with the man in the three piece suit and the Louis Vuitton carry-on then." he pointed in Hannibal's general direction. 

The woman's penciled eyebrows shot up, "Him? You know him?"

"Mmhmm. We're actually neighbors." it seemed quite a stretch as Will was in, coincidentally enough, the same clothes he wore the day they met with the addition of a windbreaker. 

"In what universe?" she snorted, "If that's the case, why don't you call him over and approve the arrangements?"

"Hannibal!" Will called, the man's head perking up before heading over as his friend's fingers beckoned him to the counter. 

"Is there a problem, Will?" he glanced onto the screen.

"Well, it appears we're stuck here for the night. Gotta love snow." he chuckled. "The company is offering hotel rooms, but is requiring single passengers to share a room. You won't have a problem with that will you?" he smiled, grabbing the straps of his duffle. 

The doctor shook his head, "Of course not." he smiled to the woman, "Please, put me on the room."

She only nodded as Hannibal took the handle of his carry-on. "The shuttle for Candlewood Suites will be arriving shortly at curbside check in, we will be keeping track of all flight and weather patterns and alerting passengers misplaced via phone and e-mail so please keep them on your person. NEXT-!"

* * *

"Honestly, I may be known as a man of good taste, but I will not stoop as low as Monsieur Louis Vuitton." Hannibal lifted the suitcase onto the queen bed, grinning wickedly as it unlatched. "How cruel of you to lie to that poor woman." 

And on that note Will laughed, chucking his duffle onto the side of his own bed, unzipping its contents. "I hate to be away from Winston, but I did call Zeller and ask him to let Winston out for a walk before we learned we were gonna be delayed. He'll be fine til tomorrow afternoon, hopefully one of us will be back by then."

"Whatever happened to Beverly, Will?"

"I think she vouched for sleeping in a chair at the gate. She heard enough at check-in and went straight for the checkpoint." he grabbed his thermals, "Would you like the bathroom to change or should I?"

"If you like, you may have the bathroom." a sidestep and a click of the lock to the bathroom door and Hannibal was alone for his quick change. He caught his reflection in the mirror over the desk, the lighting highlighting the lines seemingly sliced into his skin whenever he moved, his wool pajamas concealing the remainder of his skin. He had always felt older than he looked in his youth, and now he had flipped the other side of the coin. He knew Will would always be youthful, though the man bemoaned he was nearly forty and ached for some wear on his skin, always hairless minus his goatee, always everything Hannibal was not. Porcelain where Hannibal was murk, baby blues where Hannibal was murderous maroon, rough around the edges were Hannibal was cut so precise one would bleed at the touch. What would he look like if he had a wife and children by now? If Alana was Mrs. Will Graham? Would his dark curls be turning to salt and pepper? Would he have laugh lines his daughter would call his special dimples, and crow's feet that stretched like wings from how many times Alana made him laugh? ...Age would look beautiful on Will. 

"Hannibal? You good?" Will called from behind the door.

"Yes, Will." Hannibal called back, shaking his head. 

The black thermals were tight at the torso and hips, loose through the thighs and legs, "It's too cold for just boxers and a shirt even before this snowstorm. I keep telling Bev to call maintenance, but we've all been so busy, it's tough- is it cold in your apartment too?"

Hannibal shook his head, "No, it's perfectly comfortable in my home." his eyes swept back to the clock, "It's getting late, we can only guess when and where the airline will rebook us."

"I concur," the younger mumbled, tossing his duffle next to the window with a plop as he climbed into the soft bed, turning onto his side. "Goodnight, Hannibal."

He slipped in, turning as if he could spoon Will from five feet away, "Goodnight, Will." and the room went dark with one flick of a switch.

* * *

The rustling of sheets stirred Hannibal from sleep, only to see Will topping him, hands braced against the headboard. "Will-?" the question was never completed as Will captured Hannibal in a searing kiss, dragging his hands through Hannibal's hair and down his back, his back coiling with anticipation. 

"I want you." was Will's panting reply, Hannibal's hands finding his hips as he sat upright and settled him in his lap, "Oh god, I've wanted you for  _ages._ " he bit the older man's lobe, earning a groan, his arousal straining against the thermals, "Tell me I'm not crazy."

"If you were so would I." Hannibal gasped, running a hand up the profiler's shirt, tearing it off with ease. "On your back. Now." but he didn't wait for compliance, flipping them over, yanking down his pants with a firm tug in freeing his cock. 

Will's eyes dilated at the sight, and Hannibal couldn't help but smirk at the performance the virgin, for all tense and purposes, would struggle to give him. 

"Ha!" he cried, feeling Hannibal's calloused hands invaded his backside, running a finger along the curve and another slipping into his crack.

"You are quite the site." the doctor's smirk grew tenfold, "I'll be gentle, I promise." he kissed his temples and the crown of his head, the possibility of a family friendly hotel storing lube next to the holy bible slim to none.

"Hannibal..." he mewled, "Hannibal!" his head tilted back in pure pleasure, his mouth soon agape as-

* * *

 "Hannibal!" Will shook the man's shoulders gently.

The man in question nearly fell off the bed in a panic, panting heavily, "My apologies, Will," he mumbled through a struggled breath, "Did the airline call?"

"We're supposed to be boarding at ten." the clock blinked eight thirty. "They sent us our boarding passes this morning, we just have to grab them at the lobby. C'mon, you might want a shower, you look like you just ran a mile." 

 _My mind surely ran, if not a mile than simply wild_. Hannibal grimaced to himself, grunting his thanks before ducking into the bathroom and subsequently the shower. His dreams hadn't been so vivid in months, to the point all he needed were a couple pumps and his seed would splash against the tile, the running of the scalding hot water masking his groans and heavy pants. 

If Hannibal hadn't guessed yet, he knew he wanted Will now.

* * *

The flight back was uneventful, the taxi ride back to the complex even more so, until they saw Bev standing on the stoop with Winston in hand.

"There you are!" she let go of the leash as Winston darted toward the pair, "What happened to you?!" 

"We could ask you the same thing!" Will laughed, scratching his pet behind the ears. 

"I made it out on the first flight this morning." Bev smiled, shaking her head, "So how was the hotel room?"

"It was nice, but I'm sure by Hannibal's standards it was sub par." 

The two laughed while Hannibal shifted his attention to Winston, actually kneeling down to give the mix a good rub down, "Did you miss your daddy?" the tail wagging was a good sign. 

Bev turned, her lip curled in impress, "Would you look at that. Hannibal Lecter, the man who nearly threw out a tenant on another floor because of their schnauzer yapping incessantly, giving the biggest dog in the complex a belly rub."  

"Winston's a good dog," Hannibal only smiled, "he has a very good father."

Will sputtered as Bev laughed harder. These were the moments Hannibal had never wanted created, in the pursuit of always determining himself a bystander, an observer in his own right. But with Will, and even Beverly and the remainder of the team, there was a need for inclusion, a craving for belonging. And if he wasn't mistaken, they too felt it.  As reserved as the FBI, and its associates, were, they were not normal people. They brought work, paranoia, and even death home, and to their bed, each night. And if they couldn't do it alone, well who was to deny them of an equal? Misery loved company, commiserating too. And if anyone had misery, it was them. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a tease, sorry, but I had a craving for smut, but not TOO much. Gotta let Hannibal suffer some more.  
> Go listen to "I'm Only Joking"- the inspiration behind the smut scene.


	8. Hanging On & Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal's cannibal instincts kick in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victim 1: Francesca Agnello  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Florence, Italy  
> Last Known Location: Princeton, New Jersey  
> Attended: Princeton University, Princeton, New Jersey. Major: Marketing  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 2: Ana Tomas  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Chepoix, France  
> Last Known Location: Albany, New York  
> Attended: New York University, New York, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 3: Thea Rose Rogers  
> Age: 21  
> Place of Birth: Dover, England  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Juilliard School, Manhattan, New York. Double Major: Opera and Strings  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> Victim 4: Ingrid Schmidt  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Geneva, Switzerland  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Columbia University, Manhattan, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Living
> 
> (Possible) Victim 5: Antonia "Tanja" Ehrlichmann  
> Age: 19  
> Place of Birth: Ansfelden, Austria  
> Last Known Location: Syracuse, New York  
> Attended: Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York. Major: Accounting  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> ...Okay GO!

VIII.

Will dragged himself into the crime lab some time after dinner, knowing Price and Zeller would be there anyway. "What did you find? Anything?"

Price's head snapped up, a giddy look on his face, "Yes, we believe so!" he passed Will snapshots of the crime scenes, "We believe the killer is depicting the most common ways a woman can die. For Tanja it was a car accident, for Thea Rose it was a more... primal example we believe to be dying in childbirth."

"Any stitching on Tanja?"

"Surprisingly, no. Though when we opened her mouth her teeth were removed, pulled out with household pliers."

"I'm afraid to ask what's missing from Thea Rose." Will mumbled.

"...She's been embalmed but her embryos are still in tact. Or a good portion- at least ten percent of what a woman her age should have if her cycle began at thirteen, if it were later then more than that, were surgically removed, along with her bone marrow based on the incisions. We can only assume the killer knew she was either registered for donation and marked clean or knew what the hell he was doing." 

"Eggs fetch a nice price legally and illegally, do you think he'd do it again?" he couldn't bear to look at neither the women nor his friends.

"Possibly, I know Jack stayed behind in Syracuse to interview the victim- Ingrid?" 

"Yes, that's right." Zeller nodded, "We're expecting an mp3 file of their conversation shortly. ...Speaking of expecting, where's Dr. Lecter?"

"Hannibal..." Will frowned, not sure himself why Hannibal refused a trip to their favorite lab techs, "I think he's still a little shaken up over how Abigail has been sucked in. Is Katz around?" 

"She's in the back, finalizing some paperwork." 

"Anything else I should know?"

Zeller shrugged, "I mean, I wish I could say we know what he's doing, but we don't. That's why we need you. And Dr. Lecter to an extent, with that nose of his." he added begrudgingly.

True to his word, Bev was sitting in sweatpants with her labcoat swung over her shoulders, scribbling notes onto a diagram. "I know you're right behind me, Will, you're not being a nuisance."

Will sighed, "This is sick." 

"I know it is, but there isn't much we can do. We still have two known victims missing, probably deceased, probably mutilated in some hideous misogynistic fashion." she mumbled, sealing away the sheets in manila envelopes, "Where's Hannibal?"

"He's at home, shaken up about Abigail."

"If my kid, blood or not, was in her shoes, I'd be right where he is. He's a good man." and left it at that when she stored her papers in the "ongoing cases" cubby. 

* * *

 A knock at Hannibal's apartment came as a warning before the door swung open, "Dr. Lecter, we need to talk." the strong voice called with contempt, heels clicking through the apartment. "Where are-?" the man in question leaned over the bar, a beer in his hand.

"Alana." Hannibal said, bemused, "It's been too long." 

"I didn't come for small talk, I'm too busy for that," she tossed her royal blue coat on the coach, the wrap dress she had owned for years as elegant as ever. "I'm here to talk about Will." 

"What about Will?" Hannibal cocked an eyebrow, his posture rigid.

"He's either gone off the deep end or the man can actually process romantic emotions, he told me he was in love with you a couple nights back, and yes he sounded sober." she shifted her hips, finding her footing in her boots.

He blinked, "I don't understand."

"Don't tug him along, please. If you have any respect for either of us you won't." her words were flat, but her eyes were pleading. "I can't exactly threaten you with your license, but I can release the Lounds on you." 

He winced, he hated Freddie Lounds with a passion, almost so much he would break his diet and turn her into a nice roast on a spit- with rich red potatoes and a red wine sauce. "I understand, Alana, I would offer you a beer, but I remember you saying you didn't have time for small talk. So if this is all you needed to travel an additional seven blocks and three dollars for, well, it was lovely seeing you again." he took a sip of his beer, reaching for her coat before she snatched it up and shrugged her way in. 

"I'm serious, Hannibal, I love Will-"

"But not in that way, otherwise you wouldn't have left a box of his things in front of his apartment for all the complex to see."

"...But not in that way, and I will not hesitate to protect him from you. Or anyone else for that matter." 

"As would I." he nodded solemnly, "Good to see you, Dr. Bloom." and all he heard was the slam of the door on her way out when his back had turned.

* * *

  _"I am FBI Special Agent Jack Crawford, here at Columbia University in New York City, speaking with Ingrid Schmidt, survivor of the alleged Manhattan Ripper, on March first of two thousand and fourteen. Ingrid, are you in right sound and mind for an interview."_

_"Yes."_

_"I'm going to ask you a series of questions, all that can be answered "yes" or "no". Answer as best as you can, and if you don't know, please tell me. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Did you know your attacker?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Have you met your attacker in person before?"_

_"No."_

_"Did you meet online?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Had you ever seen your attacker's picture before meeting in person?"_

_"...No."_

_"Could you describe to me what they looked like if I brought in a sketch artist?"_

_"...Maybe."_

_"Okay, I'm going to ask you some more in depth questions, answer as best you can."_

_"Okay."_

_"Where online did you meet your attacker?"_

_"A forum regarding film and cinematography."_

_"Did they ever give you a name?"_

_"He called himself Jacob."_

_"What about location?"_

_"He claimed to be a student at a film school in Florida studying cinematography."  
_

_"Did he ever allude to death scenes similar to the crime scenes I described earlier before we started this recording."_

_"He mentioned it was easier to stage a car crash than having a living human pretending to be dead. The angles can trick the eye, but an expanding stomach gives everything away."_

_"When he attacked you did he say what he was going to do."_

_"He said he would take the cancer out of me. Make me pretty again for everyone to see."_

_"I think that's enough questioning for one day, you look drained, try and get some sleep, Ms. Schmidt."_

* * *

 "She's a cancer patient?" Will paused the audio file.

"Breast cancer, late stage two early stage three." Price frowned, "It's the third leading cause of death in her age demographic, behind suicide and unintentional injury."

"Well we already found the car crash, that'd be our unintentional injury." Zeller crossed his arms, "We'd probably find either Ana Thomas or Francesca Agnello strung from a lecture hall with their necks snapped."

The profiler copied the files onto his flash drive without a second thought, "...I'm gonna let you guys get back to work, I'm gonna mull through this back home." 

"Yeah, that would be great." the younger man nodded quickly, turning back to Tanja's file, "We're going to look them over again tonight and then release the body to the funeral homes the families chose... Will?"

 But Will had already left the room, the door slamming behind him. 

* * *

Hannibal heard a pound against the door around midnight, and being the man he is made his way to the door. "What is going- Will?!"

Will was up against the wall, his lips dragged all over another man's neck, his breathy moans choked on the man's tongue. He looked drunk, at least two drinks, from what he could tell it was some cheap whisky at the bar around the corner.

"Oh you're such a bad boy." the man smirked, tugging down Will's trousers with another kiss, his other hand curling around Will's neck. He was young, but still older than Will by a year or two, with a simple short haircut and tattoos up his abdomen from what he could see. A disgusting specimen only good for art. "I could just take you on the  _floor_ , would you like that?"

"Oh  _Hannibal~!"_ Will could only choke and whine, his big blue eyes bulging.

In that one word, a spark ignited inside Hannibal's mind that could not be doused in doubt. "Get your hands off him!" and before either three could process what happened, the unidentified man was stumbling back into the elevator with a bloody nose, Will had been dropped on his ass in a heap, and Hannibal's knuckles were split.  "What were you thinking William?!" Hannibal growled, dragging a less than cooperative Will behind him into his apartment. "A complete stranger in your apartment? You work for the FBI and god only knows you leave everything for the world to see on your table, the man could have been an absolute psychopath!" 

"Oh like you?!" Will shouted drunkenly behind him, "Like me?!" a small sniffle could be heard. "...He said he'd make me feel good." 

"He is beneath you!" was Hannibal's pained response.

"Like I am beneath you!" was his heated reply. 

Hannibal licked his lips, choosing tact over adrenaline, "No, not like you are beneath me." he took Will's hands into his, "Never are you beneath me." and pressed his lips to Will's with as much tenderness as he could with his cock stirring in his groin.

Will's liquid courage was on display, his clothes already pushed away, "Damn it, Hannibal, fuck me already!"


	9. Traditional Arrangement: "The Morning After"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is pretty self explanatory don't you think?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God damn it I hate writing sex scenes, they never turn out right. But it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make.  
> Read on!

The bed he woke up in was not his own, the music quietly playing was not his taste, and the atmosphere was certainly not his kind of comfort. Will pushed himself up off the bed, glancing down at the silver alarm clock that read nearly noon. "Shit." he breathed, letting himself collapse back into the thousand thread count sheets made of Egyptian cotton and soft European down comforter, letting it all sink in. 

* * *

_The foreplay was shit. Hannibal knew that the moment Will demanded him his primal instincts would overtake the sensuality and rob Will of proper lovemaking. But then again, when one is drunk off their ass and the other is seeing through a lusty haze, what other choice do they have?_

_But he did try to make Will comfortable for what it was worth._

_"Ha-Hanni-" Will mewled as he was flipped onto his stomach, the bed seemingly swallowing him whole. There was no light, he was Hannibal's for the taking, and_ god  _did he want to be taken._

_The older man shushed and planted sloppy kisses down Will's spine, his hands trailing down his sides to the small of his back. "Be still." he growled, fetching the bottle of lube from the hollowed out book on his nightstand- of course he would be so clever. "You've never been taken this way."  and poured a generous amount over his fingers, the menthol palpable._

_Will whined, "No but I w-wish I ha-aaaaahhhh!" he could finger a cold, slick digit hook its way up his ass, probing him slowly. "Shit, Hannibal!"_

_"What did I tell you." he mumbled, stretching him with the classic scissors motion, as another finger slipped inside, "Relax, Will, or I can't fuck you like you asked so nicely."  and only then did Will relax to the point Hannibal could easily find his pleasure point, rewarded with a high cry of pleasure. "There we are, just one more." and plunged it inside as a choked moan flew out of Will's mouth, wiggling them for good measure. "Good, good boy." he growled in Will's ear, flipping him back around and into Hannibal's lap, where both cocks stood at attention, "I'm going to let you sink down on me, take your time, I don't want you hurt," but his warning apparently went unheard as Will all but slammed him inside, his eyes wide with pain, a sharp cry escaping, "I told you take your time." he groaned, "For both of us." his accent grew thicker by the syllable, Will blissfully tight, his arms wrapping around the younger man like a barricade from the outside world, Will's arms similar to ensnaring vines. The world stood still, the room as the rest of the world knew was empty, that was how quiet the couple was as Will accommodated Hannibal in the most intimate way they knew._

_After what felt like an eternity a soft, "...Move." was heard, as Will rocked his hips gently, Hannibal rolled his in turn, trying to find the tempo of their song, even though it would be a flurry of runs and by the end a massive finale, he would let it blossom and crescendo while he could. "Haaaa-!" the soft, incessant babble of the older man's name falling out of his mouth as Hannibal's cock was sheathed inside him, hips snapping up to the younger man's with grunts and pants that only a predator could summon, his cock leaking profusely though he could not bring pleasure upon himself. He knew he could prolong the inevitable oblivion he would happily throw himself into if he didn't,  in turn creating a sweeter, more mind blowing experience for both of them. "O-oh!" he gasped, biting into the crook of Hannibal's shoulder and wrapping his long legs around the strong trunk that was Hannibal's torso._

_The doctor smirked, cooing in the man's ear, "Did I find it?" and snapped his hips just enough to make his beloved's big blue eyes roll back with an open mouth perfect for a kiss, striking Will's prostate with every nip and suck at his lips, feeling the coil in his gut tighten with anticipation. "Will." he grunted, screwing his eyes shut as he continued pounding the slick hole._

_"C-close!" Will cried out, "Please!" he felt himself still in Hannibal's arms, his voice lost within euphoria while Hannibal's roar vibrated both of their chests, and suddenly everything turned into fireworks behind his eyelids as his release rocked him to the core and Hannibal's shot through him like a bullet. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or maybe it was the sex, or hell it might have been the combination of both, but Will's high was short lived as his body went slack, his last memory watching Hannibal's triumphant smirk spread as he was falling into unconsciousness._

* * *

The door creaked open, Hannibal in his red sweater and khakis and washed away of any impurities from the night before. "Will?" 

He tried rolling onto his back, though his ass protested, "I'm up," he hissed, trying to mask the pain as the older man rushed to him, "sorry, it's just-"

"I was very rough with you, and for that I must apologize." Hannibal pulled him up gently onto his feet, his all but six feet under moral compass whirring back to life at the idea of harming Will, "If you like we can act as if it never occurred, there is ibuprofen in the- mm!" but Will's lips caught his before he could continue rambling. "I take it you are okay?" 

"Better than okay." Will grinned, his hands finding their way into the older man's hair, "I feel amazing. Last night was amazing. If only I wasn't drunk."

The good doctor could only laugh at that, kissing the top of the profiler's head, "If you weren't drunk you would have woken up in your own bed hours ago." 

"...So what does this make us." he tried to look into Hannibal's hazel eyes, curls obstructing his view. 

"If you like, we can be lovers or boyfriends, as childish as it sounds. If you wish, we can be mere friends with benefits." another kiss ghosted his lips. 

"Why on earth would I not want us to be lovers?" Will grinned, but then it faltered with a shake of his head, "Unless you don't reciprocate my feelings then I understand and- woah!" 

The older man shook his head as he carried his lover bridal style, "I do. And I have, for a very long time." and brought Will back to bed for affirmation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be returning to the Manhattan Ripper case now that this awkward sex scene flashback and badly edited morning after scene are out of the way.


	10. Make 'Em Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal are in the closet about the whole situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Victim 1: Francesca Agnello  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Florence, Italy  
> Last Known Location: Princeton, New Jersey  
> Attended: Princeton University, Princeton, New Jersey. Major: Marketing  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 2: Ana Tomas  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Chepoix, France  
> Last Known Location: Albany, New York  
> Attended: New York University, New York, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Unknown
> 
> Victim 3: Thea Rose Rogers  
> Age: 21  
> Place of Birth: Dover, England  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Juilliard School, Manhattan, New York. Double Major: Opera and Strings  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> Victim 4: Ingrid Schmidt  
> Age: 20  
> Place of Birth: Geneva, Switzerland  
> Last Known Location: Manhattan, New York  
> Attended: Columbia University, Manhattan, New York. Major: Unknown  
> Status: Living
> 
> (Possible) Victim 5: Antonia "Tanja" Ehrlichmann  
> Age: 19  
> Place of Birth: Ansfelden, Austria  
> Last Known Location: Syracuse, New York  
> Attended: Syracuse University, Syracuse, New York. Major: Accounting  
> Status: Deceased
> 
> ...Okay GO!

X.

It had been a month since Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham agreed they were lovers. It had been three weeks since Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham agreed to keep their relationship behind locked doors. In Hannibal's room. Hannibal's bed, specifically. It was now a blessing that Beverly lived a couple floors beneath them, and their neighbors across the hall were snowbirds from early December into late April. All that was asked was one of them open up the windows whenever the weather was nice in the hopes of keeping their homes from feeling stale. 

The Manhattan Ripper case had hit a dead end in the meantime.

Tanja's funeral had been held a week after the FBI released her body in Ansfelden. Hannibal insisted they send her family flowers, a German tradition the Austrians and Swiss adopted over time, rightfully inconsolable while dressing her plot, though grateful they had her body to bury- unlike the two other, now presumed, dead victims known in the tabloids and on cable news as Ana Tomas: the Beautiful Broker and Francesca Agnello: the Flirt from Florence.

Thea Rose Rogers' family could not afford to send for her body, but the team was not heartless, delivering her to the family's church for proper burial. Parliament members wore blue ribbons in her honor, her classmates from Juilliard composed an adagio for the funeral mass, twitter abuzz "#thoughtswiththea". 

Ingrid was now in the cancer treatment wing of the hospital she inhabited since she was found, the chemo working its double-edged magic, her thick blond curls now preserved as a wig on her dresser drawer in the hospital room at her suggested therapist's encouragement, Ms. Alana Bloom. As it turned out, Ingrid did not go to Columbia in hopes of following in her father's footsteps, she had been invited for a case study on a new breast cancer drug that had just been passed for human testing. Unfortunately, her abduction led her results awry, tossing her out of the study. 

Not long after the couple's first night together Alana, Will, and Hannibal had come to terms with their relationship after talking over a bottle of white wine one night after a particularly taxing day at the bureau. It went without saying she would not inform Jack or Bev or anyone else of their arrangement, though she had been tempted once or twice to let Abigail know whenever she called to check in, and then realized how much of a disaster that would be.

"You still need to tell her before she comes for Easter." Alana chastised Hannibal that following Tuesday over a cup of coffee, his first client not for another half hour and Will already off at work with Bev on an assignment out in the Bronx about a slaughter house. 

"Today is the third, I have over two weeks to tell her." Hannibal poured a splash of half and half in her cup along with two packets of sweetener, stirring until there was consistency in the color nearly caramel. 

"No, you have at most a week and a half. Abigail told me she'd be hopping on the first plane out after her last class that Thursday." she took the cup to her lips and drank, "I think she'd rather hear it from you than me, but if I have to I will." 

"Why are you so persistent with me telling Abigail about my relationship with Will? It doesn't concern her." he prepared his own cup.

"My dad wasn't so considerate after my mother died. I walked in one morning for breakfast and I saw some woman in his favorite t-shirt cooking it." she sucked in a breath. "Don't get me wrong, you know I love Julia, but it hurt that he hadn't told me."

"You think Abigail will resent me if I don't." was Hannibal's tact reply, tapping his spoon on the rim of the cup.

She gave him a look, the "no shit" look she first gave him in a lecture hall years ago, "Yeah, actually, I do."  

* * *

Will stood in the middle of the alleyway, his stomach churning. "I can look, but I can't smell. I'm sorry, but at least the Manhattan Ripper left the smell minimal." he could only imagine what Hannibal would have to say about it, with his olfactory senses so pure. 

Bev shook her head, holding in a breath of her own. The body had been out for days, finally found by a dumpster diver. "That's what happens when someone takes their rage out on a homeless person, no one notices. Why were we called in on this then, isn't this under the local CSI's division?" 

"Some are out sick, others on vacation." the officer that had roped off the alleyway shrugged, "You two aren't on a case at the moment, we call you in."

"We  _are_ on a case," Will countered, his back straightening. 

"And yet we've heard no news on the Manhattan Ripper in weeks." the officer, whose badge read "E. Yates", replied hotly. 

"When you're working with psychopaths sometimes its best to keep the media in the dark." Bev's black eyes pierced him. "You aren't entitled to every scrap of information, now leave it, Officer Yates. Or I will have my supervisor contact your supervisor." the most juvenile play in the book, calling on mommy, but it worked as the officer went back to his squad car. 

"...Does it look like the Ripper's style?" Bev glanced at Will. 

"It's too sloppy for the Ripper." he frowned, "He's too old for him, too, we've only found college-age women." a flash could be seen on the wall, and Will turned to see a very professional camera and a head of red curls behind it, "Get out of here, Lounds!" Will yelled. 

"You think this has deterred me before, Will?" Freddie raised her head, taking another shot off kilter.

Bev sighed, "Let her take the shots- we have nothing to hide, this isn't technically our case anyway, as soon as these guys come back we're back to the Ripper." then raised her voice to Freddie, "Stay behind the tape, Lounds." and the shutters continued snapping away, the woman very pleased.

* * *

 Hannibal sat through another patient bemoaning their life spiraling downward: a young man, probably the same age as Abigail and the Ripper's victims, with thin blond hair and dull brown eyes. "-idea of these girls getting offed in in in this-"

"You're referring to the girls that have been found? Why does this concern you?" he flipped through his chart, "Mr. Greene?" 

"The people that appear as visibly unstable are the first to be questioned, are they not?" Mr. Greene's voice was soft.

"Travis," Hannibal smiled that reserved, masking smile, "would there be any reason to accuse you of being the Manhattan Ripper?" 

"You know my records, I suffer from high levels of paranoia." he responded simply. "I attended school with Ms. Agnello, she knew Ms. Tomas..."

He raised a thin eyebrow, "How do you know that Ana and Francesca were acquaintances?" 

Travis snorted, "Ms. Tomas and Ms. Agnello were a couple, a power couple at that." 

"How so?"

"Ana and Francesca met the previous semester when they went abroad in London, they were roommates at Oxford, it was purely coincidental. They would take early morning classes and meet at NYSE to duke it out with the brokers. I would go in after class and see them shouting at men old enough to be their fathers. I hadn't seen Francesca in class in days and when I saw Ana the next time on the floor I just thought they had a bad breakup. I mean, it happens, right?" 

Hannibal only shifted his eyes to the tape recorder blinking a bright red from inside his appointment book. "Would you be willing to give a statement to the FBI on the subject?"

Travis squirmed in the too big chair, "I'd prefer not to." 

The doctor nodded, his smile in tact, "Our confidentiality agreement still stands, do not fret." 

* * *

"You could lose your license over this!" Alana screeched not long after.

"I altered his pitch and I am not giving a name, this is perfectly legal." Hannibal replied smoothly as he uploaded the file to a flash drive. "So we know the last two girls are more likely connected than not. They're a couple." 

She held her tongue, "As glad as I am that you have some sort of break in the case, that leads us no closer to the Ripper." 

"But it does." he turned to her, raising an eyebrow, "In our culture it is still damning for a woman to have a career, let alone love another woman. Our dear Ripper, it seems, is a bigot." 

"I don't understand?" 

"Do you recall how Ms. Ehrlichmann was found? The car was made to look as if she hit another car, not that another car hit her. Stereotype that women are terrible drivers. Ms. Rogers was found in a piano seemingly asleep, stereotype women are overly dramatic. Ms. Schmidt was found zip-tied to a catwalk with a knife not too far away. The Ripper was going to cut the cancer out of her. It's theater." 

"Sounds like he's more of a misogynist than a bigot, Hannibal." she pointed out.

"If he were a misogynistic psychopath he'd grab any young woman he could find. He's grabbing foreigners that do not fit his mold and forcing them into what he believes is correct. And if I am correct, I know what happened to Ms. Tomas and Ms. Agnello." he was halfway across the room, collecting both coats, "Now are we splitting the fare to the bureau?"  

She only gave a reluctant sigh.

* * *

"So you think the man is capturing these women and turning them into propaganda?" Jack furrowed his brows, taking a long drag of the cigarette Hannibal had offered, "I know what you're trying to piece together, and I can vaguely see it, but this doesn't lead us to a suspect." 

"Try the underground circuit, Jack." the doctor glanced over to Price and Zeller, who were on tangents in hushed whispers over the idea of both women being alive, citing it was near improbable. 

"You want us to, what, do a sex trafficking bust?" Jack glared daggers while Alana's face paled.

Hannibal shook his head, "No,  _I_ want to do a sex trafficking bust-." 

"You want to do WHAT?!" 

There was a sharp slam of the door and Will stormed in with Bev not too far behind him, his face twisted and scrunched in a way if Hannibal was not in trouble with his boyfriend he'd find cute. 

"I think I can locate our last two victims." 

"And put yourself at risk?! No, Hannibal, no you're going!" Will yelled.

"I'm not on the FBI's payroll, anyone else would be suspicious." the doctor's shoulders rolled back, extending his height.

His young lover glared, "I don't care, I won't let you. We'll send in Gideon." 

Hannibal chuckled, "You want to send a pathological liar?"

"No one would be the wiser, he's the average man in need of some company. Put a tracker on him." Bev chimed in. 

Jack glanced over the two men, "Before we decide on anything, gentlemen, is there anything you'd like to tell us?" 

Will's cheeks flushed and Bev's smirk flickered with pride, "No, why would you ask something like that?"

"Because a little birdie told me there was a bit of an office romance taking place." 

"...Bev." Will glanced back at her and she only shrugged, which only made him flush harder.

Alana cleared her throat, raising a timid manicured hand, "Actually, I did."

Will could only glare daggers as Hannibal tugged his suit jacket off, "We trusted you."

"Jack-"

"I asked Alana because I was suspicious." Jack's voice was even.

"And you couldn't go to the source?" Will guffawed.

"God forbid you lie and then the Ripper find out." his rose voice, "Would we be dealing with a hostage situation? Another murder? _Two?"_  Price edged away slowly, "I have the right to KNOW!" poor Zeller fell off his stool. 

Hannibal cleared his throat, his hair wilted and in his eyes, "We agreed to keep our relationship as private as possible, but we have been... together, per say, for a month." and a faint snort of Bev's behalf could be heard, "Do you find this humorous, Ms. Katz?" 

"I knew when I saw your tie in Will's laundry basket down in the basement last weekend." she shrugged, "I assumed we all knew." 

Hannibal raised an eyebrow to Will, "You were going to _wash_ my silk tie?" 

"I know better than that." Will shot back, "I left it aside. It's back in your closet safe and sound anyway." 

"Very true." he smiled, "Thank you."

The rest of the team gawked at the odd couple, a mix of shock and acceptance coursing through their systems. 

Zeller glanced at Price, his voice low, "Isn't there some saying about not eating where you work?"

"The word you're looking for is shitting, Brian." the older man responded pointedly. 

"That too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *confetti* woohoo ten chapters of murder, sass, and sexual tension have been completed!  
> ...Do you still like it? Remember to leave kudos and comments, guys, I want to hear what you have to say!


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